


The Price of a Song

by Bryonia_Alba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:43:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10774956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bryonia_Alba/pseuds/Bryonia_Alba
Summary: What does Kingsley do away from the office? Tonks is about to find out.





	The Price of a Song

**Author's Note:**

> Written for daily_deviant, July 2007, using the kink serenading. Canon compliant through HBP.

Following the break-up with Remus Lupin after the War, Nymphadora Tonks had sworn off men. They were a bunch of lying, cheating, self-serving pricks who thought of nothing but themselves. That was, when they were thinking at all with the brain in their heads rather than the one in their trousers.

She threw herself into her work in an effort to take her mind from Remus, concentrating on her duties as an Auror, using her capabilities as both a trained Dark wizard catcher and a Metamorphmagus to their fullest extent. Dolohov’s capture was mostly her doing, and she played large roles in the captures of Avery and Alecto Carrow.

So why, in the name of all that was holy, could she not seem to concentrate whenever Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror extraordinaire and confirmed bachelor, was around? It wasn’t as though she was looking to have her heart broken again, and he had never given the slightest indication of interest in her. Her, or anyone else, for that matter.

Kingsley, everyone knew, was married to his job. If he had a social life, he kept it well hidden from his coworkers. If he had a girlfriend, or boyfriend for that matter, he or she was never mentioned. If he noticed that practically every available female employee at the Ministry tried to catch his eye, he didn’t show it or say anything about the attention. He came to work, he did his job efficiently and well, and he went home. Day in and day out, without fail.

Naturally, the mystery surrounding his social life or lack of it brought about much speculation. It was never done within his hearing – he was too respected – but it was nonetheless a popular topic of conversation, and Tonks increasingly found herself drawn into listening to the theories and guesses of her coworkers.

“He’s gay,” Turner said dismissively, adjusting her eyepatch one day at lunch. “I think he hangs out at those Muggle clubs, and that’s why no one ever sees him after hours. He probably gets serviced every night in some dark alley. I mean, look at him! I wouldn’t mind servicing him!” She licked her lips lasciviously. “Wouldn’t mind watching, either.”

“I heard he had his heart broken once, and he hasn’t looked at anyone since,” Dawlish said. “Chose her career over him, and now he’s gone and done the same. Poor sad bloke.”

“Someone should ask him out,” Savage said, examining a ragged cuticle on one hand. “Find out one way or the other. Thing is, nobody even knows what type of bird he fancies.” He looked at Turner, who had raised one eyebrow, and added, “Or bloke. I don’t think he’s gay, though.”

“You didn’t think Macnair was holed up in Wales, either,” Turner replied, smirking when the other Auror reddened.

Tonks finished her lunch and tried not to notice when Shacklebolt passed by their table. Damn, but the man filled out his robes nicely!

It was something of a shock, then, when Tonks entered The Cockatrice for a pint once her shift was done for the day and saw none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt sitting at the bar, nursing his own pint. Tonks took a deep breath and went to join him.

“I didn’t know you came here,” she said, hopping onto the empty barstool beside him and overbalancing. Kingsley caught her arm with a small smile, and she blushed. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” Kingsley replied. “It’s a nice pub, especially on karaoke night. You’ve heard of karaoke?”

Tonks accepted the pint the bartender handed her and drank a swallow before answering. “My dad mentioned it. He’s told me about some of the more, um, odd Muggle customs. I didn’t know the Wizarding world picked up on it, though.”

Kingsley gave her a slow smile. “You haven’t been coming here on the right nights.”

“Obviously. So, do you take part in this karaoke stuff?”

The smile broadened. “Sometimes. I assume you want to watch me sing to the masses? What do I get out of it?”

A thousand different possibilities whirled through Tonks’s mind, none of which were remotely chaste or platonic or business-like. “Um, I’ll buy dinner. There’s a nice place I know of that sells the best fish and chips in England.”

_Fish and chips?_ an affronted part of her mind said in astonishment. She could kiss any hope of a good night buss good-bye, even if it was only a peck on the cheek. Not with fish breath.

“Sounds good,” was all Kingsley said before returning to his pint. “Singing always gives me an appetite.”

Embarrassed, Tonks concentrated on her own drink, watching as the pub filled. Karaoke night seemed to be a popular amusement among the younger witches and wizards. 

The show, when it finally began, didn’t impress her. Many of the participants had no natural singing ability whatsoever, and those that did had long since sacrificed what small talent they might have possessed to alcohol as they murdered various songs by Celestina Warbeck, Stubby Boardman, and the Weird Sisters. She ordered another pint, hoping the singers might improve if she was tipsy.

She glanced up when Kingsley slid from his barstool, draining his glass. “I think it’s time to show these young pups how it’s done,” he said, giving her another slow smile before making his way toward the stage. Tonks leaned forward, hoping for something resembling actual skill than what her ears had been subjected to thus far. Anything would be an improvement.

Kingsley stepped onto the stage, and the first jazzy bars of “A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love” began to play. Tonks rolled her eyes at his musical choice. Couldn’t he have chosen something better than _that_ old chestnut?

Her mental complaints were forgotten moments later as he opened his mouth and started singing. She hardly noticed the quieting of the crowd, or the fact that the barkeeper was still polishing the same glass. All that mattered was that voice. Oh, that _voice_!

It was unsurprisingly deep, yet mellifluous and pliant, weaving in and out of the melody effortlessly, colouring the notes with a vibrancy Warbeck could only dream of. It soared, and swooped, and slithered up and down the scale, sinuous and insinuating, doing more than merely hinting at the lyrical double entendres. Kingsley sang them straight out like the boldest proposition, leaving his female audience mesmerised, and a few of the men as well.

Tonks shifted on the barstool, feeling the space between her legs turn molten as that gorgeously sinful voice moved into the second verse. She hadn’t known it was even possible to become so aroused by a voice, but it was happening, and she couldn’t believe the effect he had on her senses.

And damn, but was he looking directly at her? He reached the chorus, his dark gaze pinning her to the barstool as he seductively crooned,

_”Oh, come and stir my cauldron,_  
And if you do it right,   
I’ll boil you up some hot strong love  
To keep you warm tonight.” 

Tonks whimpered. Behind her, the barkeeper chuckled.

“He has that effect on the ladies. Seems rather right taken with you, miss. He usually doesn’t sing with quite that much emotion.”

Tonks whimpered again as the song ended and the spell was broken with the sound of whistles and cheers and cries for more. Kingsley bowed, shook his head, and departed the stage, his gaze once again snagging hers as he walked back toward her.

“I’ve heard enough,” she said, slapping a handful of coins onto the bar. Turning, she wrapped her arms around Kingsley, smiling up at him and trailing her fingertips along the waistband of his trousers. “I think you’ve more than succeeded in singing for your supper. I’ll even upgrade from fish and chips. What do you fancy, Auror Shacklebolt?”

Kingsley’s arm slid around her waist. His rich chuckle tickled her ear as he murmured, “I like Thai, but I’ve a feeling you’d rather skip directly to dessert.”

“Mmmm…dessert.” Tonks smiled at him. Even if nothing more came out of tonight, she already felt more alive and over what’s-his-name than she had in months. And all for the price of a song. Amazing. “Lead the way.”

Stepping outside of the pub, Kingsley held her close, Apparating them to a small flat, sparsely furnished in what Tonks might charitably call Bachelor Chic. She didn’t care, the pop of Apparition drowned by the feel of Kingsley’s mouth on hers. Her hand dropped to his trousers, squeezing his already-hard length and smiling at his sudden sharp intake of breath. The taste of him was intoxicating, dark and slightly bitter as her lips crushed against his, their tongues tangling.

Kingsley’s hand wove into Tonks’s pink hair, his tongue stroking through her mouth, hips thrusting against the hand she’d wrapped around his cock. She moaned as his other hand slid from the small of her back to her front, fingers dipping past the waistband of her faded jeans and into her wetness. He drew back with another chuckle.

“If I’d known I’d have that effect I would have sung to you long before tonight,” he said, his slow, deep voice turned husky with arousal. “You’ve no idea…”

“I think I have an idea now,” Tonks answered, somewhat breathlessly as he continued proving that he most definitely was _not_ gay, unfastening her jeans and pushing them down along with her soaking wet knickers, his lips moving from hers to lay a searing path along her throat. His hand slipped between her legs once her jeans and knickers were off, teasing at her slick folds, circling her clit without touching it.

Growling, Tonks grazed the nails of one hand along the smooth surface of his scalp, the other still stroking him through his trousers, feeling him swell against her palm. She forced his mouth back to hers, nipping at his bottom lip and hearing his moan. Releasing his cock, she let her hand creep beneath his shirt, feeling the muscles in his abdomen jump and quiver as her fingertips grazed lightly over warm skin, moving upward to flick at a nipple. She cried out softly as his fingertip skimmed over her clit, stroking it with a maddeningly feather-light touch that made her crave more, jerking her hips against his hand. She bit down again on his bottom lip, feeling her climax rapidly approach.

“So wet,” Kingsley whispered, fingers taunting her, rubbing and pinching at her clit, seeming to know when to pull back just when she was at the brink of orgasm before starting in again. “Will you sing for me, Nymphadora?”

“Don’t…call…me…Nymphadora…oh, fuck…”

“Dora, then?”

He could call her whatever he wanted, if it meant more of _this_. “Dora’s fine,” she gasped, undoing his trousers so she could close her hand around velvet flesh. He groaned, teeth grazing her earlobe as she resumed stroking him.

Kingsley slid two fingers into her, his thumb still dancing over her clit, thrusting in and out. Tonks writhed in his arms as he added a third finger, moaning without ceasing. “I want you to sing for me, Dora,” he breathed into her ear, his tongue tracing the rim.

Tonks sang, her cries soaring over the sound of Kingsley’s own ragged breathing as his thumb rolled once more over her clit and she came, pushing recklessly against his hand, his fingers thrusting more deeply into her. He pulled them free of her body, eliciting a whine of protest, and licked them clean.

“Oh, god,” she panted, her body still shivering from the force of her climax. It was all she had time for before Kingsley’s hands moved to her hips, lifting her up and sinking into her. Tonks wrapped her legs around him, her nails sinking into his shoulders, squeezing her cunt around his cock and hearing his breathing catch.

Pleasure flooded through her, so intense Tonks could barely breathe. Kingsley turned, bracing her against the wall, his cock pounding into her depths with a steady rhythm. “Harder,” she begged, her head falling back and feeling Kingsley’s mouth latch onto her throat. “Fuck me harder!”

He complied, thrusting harder, deeper, his mouth feasting on the cord in her neck. Her body teetered on the brink, closing in once more on orgasm, and Tonks cried out, pleading. Kingsley shifted his grip, one hand going between them to pull at her aching clit, and she shattered around him, head banging back against the wall. Kingsley covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries, spilling into her moments later with a guttural groan of his own.

Tonks whimpered as he lifted her from him, her legs shaking as she was lowered onto the floor. Her hands braced against his chest while she regained her balance. Straightening, she met his eyes and grinned. “I should watch you sing your karaoke more often,” she said, bending to gather her jeans.

“Repeat performance next week,” Kingsley replied, pulling his own clothing back into place. “I seem to recall a promise of dinner for the price of a song?”

“Thai,” Tonks agreed, linking her arm through his. “And I’ll be back next week.”

Not only that, but Kingsley’s hobby was her secret, now. Let the rest of the Auror division wonder. Tonks wasn’t about to share.


End file.
